


5 times Peter said he didn't feel so good

by truewolf



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, IW SPOILERS, Irondad, Kid Peter Parker, Mention of Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker-centric, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:48:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truewolf/pseuds/truewolf
Summary: May woke up to the sounds of wet snuffling and a tiny tug at the sleeve of her oversized t-shirt.“Aunt May?”When she opened her eyes, she looked upon a very pale, and very much crying Peter Parker“I don't f-feel so,sniff, so good.”ORI wrote some hurt/comfort to try to deal with the tragedy that is IW*slight spoilers ahead!*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> heyyyyy
> 
> so like
> 
> what? The Fuck™ was the ending of Infinity War??? I am so not okay and I don't you guys are either? like
> 
> I couldn't sleep because I kept thinking about this fic, and it wouldn't leave my mind until I wrote it, so here we are

Out of all the things that May pictured she'd been doing on Saturday night, taking care of a six year old was not on her agenda. Flip through her calendar and you'd find work, going out every other Thursday with her girlfriends to catch up, and trying a new Thai restaurant down the street with Ben, but a kid? It never entered into the picture before.

Having said kid vomit into a small shopping bag Ben had quickly grabbed from the dining room table was definitely not what she imagined her date night would be like.

May never thought that she would ever actually have kids. While the idea was nice, May and Ben had been content with their little family. The most they seriously discussed an addition to the family was adopting a dog, but after Ben and May had both managed to kill a little potted plant in less than three days (a new personal record for the both of them), the thought disappeared pretty quickly.

Later looking back at it, May had thought that the balance of life itself seems so fragile it could change within the snap of one's fingers. The call they had received from the hospital that fateful day telling them that after a fatal crash Richard and Mary Parker had anywhere from days to hours left had been a perfect example of that. 

And, while the news was heartbreaking, May immediately went to go start the car as Ben got the extra car seat to go pick up Peter. There was no question or argument needed.

(They didn't know it was the last time they'd ever pick him up where he wasn't living with them, when he wasn't _theirs_ , but then again, he always felt like theirs in the first place).

Unfortunately, when May went over to pick up Peter and pack an overnight bag as Ben quietly informed the babysitter what had happened in the other room, it was apparent that the kid was coming down with something. While Peter still had his signature motor for a mouth and cheery disposition, despite being a bit confused as to why he had to have a sleepover at his Aunt and Uncle’s apartment, the kid had to stop every few words to wipe away the very constant stream of snot from his nose. 

(And then we played with some playdough, _sniff_ , and then we watched Bill Nye! Have you ever, _sniff_ , seen that show Aunt May? He's like, one of the best scientists ev-er! Well, after Bruce, _sniff_ , Banner, of course). 

That, combined with the sound of a wet cough every now and then threatened something worse than just a common cold. Nevertheless, they hoped that it wouldn't get worse and that within a day or two it would clear up on its own.

In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best idea to let Peter have Cookie Krisps and chocolate ice cream that night for dinner. While May was no expert at cooking she could make a pretty decent Mac ‘n cheese, the kid did say please. Combine that with those damn puppy dog eyes of his and May broke.

Somewhere in between Ben and Peter arguing about which Spongebob Squarepants character was best (Peter had been Pro-Spongebob while Ben was a Patrick fan himself), and May getting Peter into his favorite Captain America pjs, Ben got the call to inform him that Richard and Mary had hours, if they're lucky.

Ben had motioned for May to finish getting Peter to bed while he excused himself to their balcony, trying to compose himself as he hide tears behind rough hands rubbing up and down his face. It looked like if he tried hard enough, he could just wipe away the news with the wave of his hand. 

May moved quickly setting up the pull out couch for Peter. She figured as long as she her hands her moving, left her answers monosyllabic and didn't look Peter in face, she could handle everything else. _Get yourself together May_ , she thought to herself, _now's not the time_.

When Peter had suddenly quieted down and quickly got into the sheets without any argument was when May should have realized something was up. Nevertheless, she was feeling a bit more than preoccupied, and quickly gave him a kiss on the cheek before wishing him a _goodnight, Peter_ , before meeting her husband in their bedroom to quietly breakdown.

After the initial shock, a two hour long painful conversation about what they should do next proceeded, _funeral services, Richards and Mary’s apartment, Peter’s school, Peter, Peter, **Peter-**_

May woke up - _when did they fall asleep in the first place?_ \- to the sounds of wet snuffling and a tiny tug at the sleeve of her oversized t-shirt.

“Aunt May?”

When she opened her eyes, she looked upon a very pale, and very much crying Peter Parker. She started to rack her brain, trying to figure out if he had overheard any of their conversations, and _oh god, they already fucked it up, didn't they-_

“I don't f-feel so, sniff, so good.”

It seemed like after the utterance of those words he no longer had any more control of his body, and as he turned to run to the bathroom, tripped over his own feet proceeded to vomit onto Ben and Mays bedroom floor.

May quickly called out to Ben to get a bag when she quickly realized she was not going to be able to move Peter into the bathroom, choosing to rub small circles into his back and while holding the cheap plastic (May could never see Target bags the same after that) underneath him as best as she and Ben could as they waited out the worst of it.

When he finally stopped and could do no more than dry heave, Ben moved to start cleaning up and volunteered to go to store for children’s Tylenol. May had a feeling that Ben would be going to the CVS closest to the hospital and would make a quick pit stop on the way but didn't say anything. 

May carried Peter back to the bathroom to wash him up the best she could. She soon realized there no tub stopper, and with a very exhausted and sick child, a bath was out the question.

Peter had been oddly quiet, even for the obvious toll being sick took on his body. His small frame was shaking like a leaf in the wind, about to fall over at a moments notice.

She had taken a washcloth and wiped away the vomit as best she could with shaking hands, and silently prayed a thank you to whatever higher power out there that compelled her to pack a spare change of pajamas.

She lead him back into his very makeshift bed-

_-and shit, they didn't even have a bed for him to sleep in, how were they ever going to be able to raise him properly, not even with the thought of him actually being happy -_

and quickly wrapped Peter up into the biggest and softest comforters she was able to find in the house, setting his favorite stuffed toy next to him. The poor kid wouldn't even look at her, just stared down at the blankets like if he looked hard enough, he'd find all the answers to his (many) questions about the world.

May bit her lip, trying to figure out how to approach him without making Peter withdraw into himself even more. The kid was obviously upset, and if he worked himself up more he would just make himself even more ill and miserable.

“Peter?”

Peter looked up at her slowly, his face flushed and tears welling back up into eyes. May felt a vice grip over her heart, her head slightly tilting toward him with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Bud, what's wrong? Do you feel like you're going to be sick again?”

At the mention of getting sick Peter flinched slightly, before shaking his head. He muttered something under his breath, looking anywhere except for May before going back to staring his hands.

May wasn't sure if she should try to get more out of him or leave him be. Peter was obviously becoming wearier by the minute, and trying to get him to open up may just make the situation worse. 

On the other hand, it was no secret Peter was very intelligent, book-wise as well as emotionally. If she didn't get out of him now, he had the habit of holding it in for days, letting whatever was bothering him eat him up inside.

Sighing, she moved to sit next to him on the cheap IKEA couch and got under the blankets with him. Peter sat right where he was, eyeing May’s lap but making no indication of moving. She gently lifted his chin so that she could see his bloodshot eyes.

Taking a deep breath trying to rid the feeling of exhaustion and grief away, she started again. “Hey. You know that you can tell Ben and I anything, right? Getting sick is nothing to be embarrassed of, neither of us are upset at you-

“No, _sniff_ , I just-”

Taking a shakey breath, he looked at May with so much resolve she was almost taken aback. His voice was strong, despite that his stutter in full force.

“I, I th-threw up in your room, _sniff_ , a-and you had to, _sniff_ , to take care of me tonight, and I r-ruined your plans, _sniff_ , and earlier y-you a-and Ben got real quiet, and I felt so sick, but I didn't want to, to b-bother you…” Peter choked on his last words that were caught in a hiccup, silent tears sliding down his face like waterfalls.

May doubted she had ever hated herself more than in that moment. Earlier in the night. Earlier in the night, when they got The Call. Earlier, when she was too overcome with her own emotions to realize when she put Peter to bed that he was probably already feeling bad, bad enough for it to be obvious that he was seriously ill. 

The realization hit May with full force, causing her heart to constrict painfully in her chest: He didn't say anything because he thought thought that they were annoyed by him already and did not want to be a burden to them.

Looking at him now, she could she how guilty and exhausted he looked. Sighing, _Oh, Peter,_ and she scooted right next to him, one hand holding his cold, clammy hands with her other arm wrapped around his warm back. He still refused to look at May, but his constant shaking ceased slightly.

Taking a deep breath, May started. “You were not bothering us at all, okay sweetheart? Ben and I were-” May bit her lip, trying to word the sentiment of _it's not you it's never been you but we don't know what what the hell we're going to do now_ to a six year old.

“-we were preoccupied at the time, but it was our fault that we didn't realize you were so sick. If you ever feel that bad you can always just come and tell us. I’m glad you ended up trying to get us. There is no shame in telling someone went you don't feel well, even when you're scared. Okay?”

Peter tentatively nodded. He didn't look completely convinced, but it did seem like he had a small weight lifted off his shoulders.

May decided to continue on, “And you did not ruin our night one bit, you understand? In fact, I’d even say our night got even better since you were here.”

At the sight of a slight, curious smile and an upturned eyebrow spurred May on.

“No, seriously dude! When do I ever get to watch cartoons? Besides,” May lowered her voice, making it seem like a secret just the two of them got to share. Peter subconsciously leaned in closer, big brown eyes tracing her face.

“I've been asking Uncle Ben to clean the floors for for-ev- _er_ ” May emphasized, drawing her voice out as much as possible. “And I don't think I've seen him run anywhere near as fast as when he grabbed that trash bag. It's been years since he's managed half that speed! I Should really be thanking you, Pete!”

By now, Peter was uncontrollably giggling, and that this point maybe May was too, because she was dead tired with a sick child in her care and feeling out of her element, but damn, this kid really had her wrapped around his finger.

When Peter’s giggling had stopped after a coughing fit and his body started to sink further into the couch, May leaned over and kissed him on his cheek. 

That was all it took for Peter to finally reach over and practically leap into Mays open arms, squeezing the breath out of her lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut painfully, reminding herself this is not the time to lose it, not now and not even in the near future. He was going to need them more than he knows (although later on, May always figured that it was him that was the missing link in the picture).

After a few minutes of them just sitting together, May rubbing his back and softly singing as she tried to calm his shaking, warm frame, his eyelids started drooping closed like window blinds. When he spoke it again, it made May jump a little.

“Hey Aunt May?”

His voice cracked over her name, and he was so congested she didn't even know how he was breathing through his nose at all at this point. 

As May inhaled to speak, Peter beat her to it, seeming to spit his words out as if he had to work up the courage, asked, “Are my parents also feeling sick?”

Alarmed, May looked down at him quickly, trying to determine how much he knows, if anything. May is shit at lying, but this was not to time to accidentally let slip that _hey, I know you have the stomach flu and feel shit, and may become an orphan anywhere from now to the next 72 hours._

May swallowed hard before asking, “Why are you asking that, Peter?”

Peter nervously shifted his eyes, looking suddenly very guilty. 

“I, uh,” Peter stopped to cough, deep and hard. May just rubbed his back, being as patient and kind as can be.

“I, _sniff_ , heard Uncle Ben on the phone earlier. He asked I-if it was a hospital calling, _sniff_ , and asked how my Mom and Dad was doing.”

May started carefully, trying not to lie to Peter without saying anything to alarm him. “They aren't feeling very good right now. They went to the hospital so that they could get better.” May finished, restraining herself to not add a _hopefully_ to that thought.

After a pregnant pause, Peter gave a small nodded before nuzzling back into her chest.

To this day, May never knew what compelled her to do it. Maybe she knew how much significance that moment held. Only later in life did she realize how much the utterance would stick with the both of them, the long withstanding anchor in the sea of the unknown amidst new tragedies and heartbreak. 

Speaking softly, in case he was fell asleep, May whispered, “We love having you here Peter. I feel so lucky to have such a kind and smart kid for a nephew.” 

Taking a unstable breath, she finished, “We love you so, so, so much. You got that?”

“Even when I throw up in your bedroom, and, _sniff_ , and drop my Legos in your toilet?”

May raised her eyebrows, mouth opening to question _that_ cryptic statement, but when looking at his painfully open and honest expression her jaw shut closed.

“Absolutely.”

Peter looked up at her, a small content smile on his face.

 _This does not mean your getting away with throwing more toys into different orifices though,_ May bit back.

May stayed with Peter for the rest of the night. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, and May didn't have the strength nor the heart to move him. 

Ben came back two hours later, bringing home medicine, bloodshot eyes and news that neither Mary nor Richard had been able to pull through the night.

Whenever May feels like everything is coming crashing down around her, she tries to remember this night. Because as much as good ole’ Parker luck seems to constantly try to bite everyone in the ass, as horrible of a tragedy the loss of both of Peter’s parent were, some of her favorite moments in her life had catapulted from this moment.

This is not to say that May ever wanted to replacement Mary. Peter’s parents were some of the best people that May had ever been extremely lucky to call family, and Peter didn't need someone to replace his parents.

Truly, May felt like she was the wrong person for the job at the beginning. Peter needed someone who knew what they were doing, that would serve him GMO-free food on the table, would implement a strict bedtime and solid routine that would only give them one hour of tv everyday.

But then May would find in the small moments. Peter flashing her a shy, toothless smile when he was handed his lunch bag, knowing that he would find a note of one of Mays special and beautifully detailed drawings of Peter next to his favorite superhero, Iron Man _(because his superpower is his brain Aunt May, duh)_. Walking out of the kitchen to stumble upon Peter and Ben watching Star Wars, talking a mile per minute about his different theories and small things he's just now noticing. Ben had just smiled down at him the whole time, his sole focus on Peter with the movie being long forgotten.

Or right now, as Peter ended up falling asleep on top of May, her arm completely asleep with the front of her shirt colored with snot and - _is that vomit? I really hope that's not vomit_ \- May knew, that despite the nightmare that could come from the news that they'd bring Peter the next morning, the long nights and early mornings, the unpredictableness of teenage years (although, she really was not ready for the whole superhero thing)-

Peter, while not hers by blood, would always be their boy. Her boy.

Together, the two of them can make the entire world seem complete.


	2. Chapter 2

Once in fourth grade, Peter fell off the monkey bars during recess and broke his collarbone. Peter should have realized that maybe since he had never been able to get up on the monkey bars since he was too short to reach the first bar, that that was destiny’s way of saying _bitch, don’t do it!!_ In his ten year old mind though, hanging upside down looked _so_ cool, and him and Ned’s plan was absolutely perfect. Ned would give him a boost up, and when he had to come down, Ned would also become the safety net. In their minds, this would put any act from Circ De Souffle, or whatever that weird circus was that Ned’s Grandmother loved, to shame.

For one second, his everything in Peter’s life was _a-maz-ing_. Even as blood rushed to his head, and everything felt kinda a little distant and blurry, Ned was giving him an upside down smile, and Peter couldn’t resist giving a grin back. _If there is a job to swing like this all day_ , Peter thought to himself, _I’m dropping out of school today._

Peter just didn't mean that quite so literally.

The trouble began when he went to pull himself up. Because to do that, you needed to use your upper body strength to pull his torso back upright to sit on top of the gym equipment. And, up until the spiderbite, Peter’s abdominal muscles were nonexistent. His upper body couldn't pull himself up, and as his vision started blacking out, he felt his legs slip. In this moment, Peter knew, for a lack of better terms - he fucked up.

It took one second for him to fall like a sack onto the wet mulch, landing with a loud _snap!_ and it took another for the shock to set in. After two very intense and deathly still beats the screaming started.

That story pretty much ended with a lot of tears (mostly between himself and Ned - Ned thought Peter had broken his neck and was dying), multiple lectures from May and Ben, and two months of intense pain stretching anywhere from his neck to his fingertips. From that day forward, he had always used The Monkey Bar Incident, as Ned dubbed it, to measure the intensity of his pain. Physically, it was the most painful thing he had ever felt. On the scale of one to ten they asked him to use in the nurse’s office before the ambulance came, he fuzzily thought to himself that that was a definite ten. He thought it was the most painful thing he (would ever) experience in his life.

If his broken collarbone had been a ten, the spider bite had been a twenty. Well, maybe not the bite initially. 

_Peter stayed a little bit behind the group unintentionally, too engrossed with the unit on the effects of radiation on living organisms. As he started to read the plaque explaining new experiments with arachnids, he didn’t see the spider slowly lowering itself on its web, right next to Peter’s ear. In fact, he didn’t notice anything before he felt a stabbing, throbbing pain by the base of his neck._

_His hand instinctively went to the area of irritation, nervously expecting to find a bee, worst case scenario. Coming back to see a very large, very red, and very angry looking spider almost gave him a heart attack right then and there._

_Before he could even think, he let out a small shriek, before doing vehemently shaking his hand and doing a small dance around himself to try to get rid of the spider. “Get off of me, get off of me, please mister spider, for the love of god get off of me.” Peter frantically muttered to himself. As soon as it was on the ground, Peter stomped on the thing with as much force as he could, insuring that it was really dead._

_“Scared of a little spider, Penis?”_

_Peter jumped what felt was like ten feet in the air, snapping his head around to see a laughing Flash._

_“Wha-”_

_“Oh, come on,” Flash continued, “I knew you were a baby already, but you jump that easily just at the mention of a spider? Scared you’re going to altered with on of their radioactive bites, huh?” Flash wiggled his hands in front of his face when he mentioned the spider, getting closer to Peter’s face with every word._

_At the lack of Peter’s response and his paling expression, Flash just snorted, and finished with “God, you’re too easy, honestly.” Turning back to laugh with his friends, Flash went over to another unit of the lab, no doubt to tap at the glass of showcased animals, mostly just to annoy them. Peter could sympathize._

_Thoroughly confused now though, Peter glanced down at the now very dead spider - it’s guts were all over his shoe too, ew - and actually read the plaque for a closed display. They were testing on what looked to be a new species of spiders, their DNA altered by radioactive mutations._

_His head snapped down towards the ground. Further inspection revealed that under his foot where there should’ve been red blood there was a stunning blue, and if he didn't know better he'd say the liquid was glowing, stark against his dirty white sneakers._

_At that moment a woman dressed in very formal business attire strutted across the room they were in, eyes scanning all around to find their tour guide. She walked deftly up to and whispered something in his ear. Eyes widening, he quickly and urgently shouted that they were behind schedule, and that they needed to leave this unit now. Like, right now._

_Peter’s eyes widened as the pieces started to fall together. Everything around him seemed to move too slow, and his heart beating too fast as the gravity of the situation hit him._

_Well, shit._

Leaving school that day he had felt fine, other than maybe a little bit more than paranoid. Ned had quickly come up to side, spouting out random facts and different observations of the displays, and for a while Peter was able to forget the whole incident. If it had been poisonous or even, uh, _altered_ , a quick google search told him he would have been feeling the effects by now - or not feeling anything - since the most dangerous seem to kill instantly. 

Peter was getting tired of learning new facts today.

Taking the subway home though, he started to feel lightheaded, knuckles turning white from the grip he had on the hand rail. By the time he got to his apartment complex he was sweating profusely, even though he felt cold shivers spread throughout his body. Thankfully, Ben had gone out of town for work and May had a late shift, so he could evade prying and concerned eyes, even if just for a little bit.

(Secretly, he was terrified and feeling like shit, and wanted to be with his Aunt and Uncle to allow himself to be comforted. But if they were here they'd notice that he was sick. Which would mean he had to acknowledge something _was_ actually wrong.)

Peter’s shaking hands had barely been steady enough to get his keys into the door, before slipping (quite literally) into the apartment, backpack dropping as soon as he crossed the threshold. 

Peter hoped that maybe he was just dehydrated. _That can make people dizzy, right?_ A little voice in the back of his head told him that that doesn't explain the feverish feeling and the extreme nauseousness he was experiencing, but that voice had been annoying today, and chose to ignore it. As he went to reach for a glass, his vision entirely blacked out, and it felt like his lungs were crushed like soda can, breath being completely sucked away from him. When he fully came to again, he nearly fell over. Peter tried taking deep breaths, leaning his back onto the counter and let his head fall back to the top cabinets with a sigh.

“Okay, new plan” Peter breathed out, trying to get his racing heart under wraps. If he didn't know better it probably looked like Peter had run a mile, which is funny because you know, Peter _running,_ but in reality it just made him even more panicked. 

Walking into his bedroom, he all but collapsed onto the bed, four page paper due tomorrow be damned. His mind blanched to any clue, any fact he had heard but didn't really pay attention to while on the tour. He was avoiding Webmd at all costs (an unfortunate incident of an eight year old Peter googling symptoms of a common cold and coming back with tears eyes to tell his Aunt and Uncle that he had cancer swore him off the website until further notice), but maybe it'd give him a clue as to what was happening to him. At this point he'd risk the scary diagnosis, he was way past the point of trying to pretend nothing was wrong. Deep down, Peter tried to push away the feeling that a dire diagnosis may be accurate this time. 

Flashes words came back to haunt him in his mind, and Peter rubbed his eyes forcefully with the palms of his hands. Change from a spider bite? That was ridiculous. _Flash_ is ridiculous. He barely even used his head to before saying something to Peter, spoke without a thinking…

...which means that what Flash had said had much more likely chance to be actually correct.

_If I wake up with eight eyes tomorrow,_ he thought to himself, _I'm blaming all of this on you, Eugene._ He was trying to humor himself, but just failed miserably, freaking himself more.

After searching through Google and Webmd, he came back with no new answers, other than maybe some mental scarring from some pictures he did _not_ mean to look at. Peter, in desperation, even tried to read up on Bruce Banner’s studies on genetic modification with radiation and their effects, but the words became blurred together, and the whole page started to look like a weird form of alphabet soup he used to mainly play with more than actually eat when he was younger.

Somewhere, as he was drifting off, he felt as if this was the beginning of the end somehow. Of what, he didn't know, but it seemed to be the only thing he could distinguish in his muddled mind. The terrifying feeling of looking into the abyss before jumping straight in. 

His vision blacked out before he had the luxury to close his eyes.

Seconds, minutes, hours later, Peter had no idea, a sharp ring had blasted through his subconscious. Peter was sure that he had left his earbuds in for it to be that loud. He thought it was weird that he left them in, since he usually sleeps better listening to the sounds of the city and they end up falling out anyways, but Peter’s memory was a little more than fuzzy, and he was way past the point of exhaustion to even try to care. As he felt around for his phone though, he found no cord connected to the audio jack.

Somewhere, he knew that this should concern him, since said phone was on the ground and sounded as if it was blasting through one of those large speakers they have at school dances, but all that he could think clearly about was turning the thing _off._

Wincing, he rolled over to look at the very bright screen, illuminated with the time - _he was asleep for four hours?_ \- and a picture of Ben and him on Coney Island standing in front of the ferris wheel when he was younger. Shit. 

While Ben had no trust issues about Peter being home alone for long periods of time, but whenever May would work night shifts and wouldn't be around he'd give Peter a call just to make sure he was doing okay. Most days it would last only a minute and would slip his mind as soon as he would disconnect the call, but now he wasn't even sure he had a voice to use, let alone the strength to even roll over and pick the damn thing up.

He pathetically let his arm fall over the bed, his shaking fingertips miraculously able to pull his phone over with hardly any real grip. This should have been the second warning for Peter, but he wasn't going to complain. Small victories were still victories - no matter how miraculous they were in nature.

He slide open the call on the final ring.

“Peter!”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but absolutely nothing but a squeak came out. He quickly tried clearing his throat, taking a loud dry swallow. Shit, did he ever manage to grab some water-

“You there, bud?”

Peter jumped a little at the still too loud sounding voice, quickly trying again. “Yeah, yeah, sorry.” His voice sounded pathetic, even to him. It was like a light breeze could cross his room and take his words right with it.

“You sounded like you were sleeping. Did I wake you?”

Before Peter could even finish taking in a breath to respond, Ben plowed on to talk about the importance of sleep in developing adolescents, which then prompted him to start a story about how he fell asleep on the subway once and had to walk ten blocks home. You think Peter talked a lot? Try Ben.

Ben was different though. When he spoke, people listened. It was almost like he had the whole room enchanted, people hanging onto his every word, even if he's just making small talk about the weather. Ben was able to command his voice, making anything he said all his own. Peter couldn't do that. It was almost like his words ran over him, tangling his many thoughts together before he was even able to realize that he was rambling.

At this moment, his stomach made quite in unnerving noise, threatening to have his lunch to make a second appearance. Peter let out an involuntary grown, trying to breath through the pain.

“Pete? You good? I know May won't be home tonight, but she should have left you some money in the silverware drawer for you to get some food.”

At this point, Peter was in the most excruciating (not to mention strange) amount of pain he had ever felt. It was like his muscles were constantly contracting involuntarily, and his headache - no migraine, was reaching new levels of intensity he didn't even knew existed. 

Breathing heavily, Peter knew that if he didn't say anything now he may never be able to get any other form of help. He was scared and knew that whenever the hell was happening to him was way out of any of his, or even his Aunt or Uncle's league. Even laying here listening to Ben, if was like his muscles would refuse to cooperate, choosing to move however and whenever he wanted. Using any strength he had left, Peter’s voice practically a whisper, said “Un’cl Ben? I don’ feel so…” 

“Damn, I think he passed out again”, he could hear Ben mutter to himself from the phone. 

_No no nonono don't go,_ Peter tried pleading but didn't reach anyone but himself. _Please don't leave me. Please don't. Don't..._

“Peter, if any part of you is still somewhat conscious and happens to remember this tomorrow-” Ben stopped himself, laughing at his own joke which sounded a lot like a reference to an old party story to his college days which Peter always loved to hear when he was younger. He cleared his throat a bit, laughter still evident in his voice, “ah, yeah, I know you will but I still gotta ask that you take care of May for me while I'm away for the next few days, alright? No letting her go to that new Tapas restaurant without me.” There was a beat, and then, “I'm so proud of you, kid. Love you.”

Peter couldn't hold back his tears anymore, whether from the pain or from Ben, he could no longer tell.

“I, I love you t-”

_Beep._

After Peter’s parent had died, he went through a period of time where late at night, he ended up thinking about what people's final moments were like. Were his parents scared when they went? Peter didn't think so. As he got older the memories sadly faded, but he does remember feeling incredibly safe and loved. He was always told that his parents were some of the strongest people in the world. He hoped that was true, even in death.

For a while, especially after the battle of New York, Peter would like to imagine himself as a superhero. Peter didn't think about dying a lot, but in his young mind he'd imagine that he'd go out heroically in a mission, feeling nothing but the relief of a final stand well done.

Peter also knew you didn't always get to choose how or when you get to go. That was evident enough in his life, but Peter always figured that your final words will still be up to you, the one last thing you could be in control of. He had always hoped his final words would be something meaningful. Something Ben would say. Actually, something that'd make Ben proud.

One thing was true though: Peter loved his uncle more than he could possibly imagine. If May was his rock, Ben was his shield. Peter was still shameless to admit that his favorite times were when Ben and him would just be able to sit and talk, or watch a movie, or just be in the same room as him to shoot Ben a look as May would dance to an old pop song that was popular back in her high school days. Ben would return him a similar grin that would convey everything needed to be said without uttering a word. May always said she hated when they'd do that, saying that they were using telepathy to gang up on her, even though deep in her heart it was those small moments that she cherished to see.

When he was younger, Peter would try to do everything just to get to hear that deep bellied laugh that sounded like the most beautiful symphony Peter ever heard. It was like winning the lottery for him. In turn, Ben loved to watch Peter work on something he was passionate about. Did he understand robotics and engineering? Not even a little bit. But he could listen to Peter explain whatever the hell he was doing for hours on end.

Ben and Peter balanced each other out. They didn't need to say anything anymore to each other anymore. Ben already knew.

As he endured the rest of the night, falling in and out of consciousness, waking up with a silent scream on his lips before throwing up over the side of his bed, to pass out with tears falling down his cheeks like waterfalls, the only thought to give him any comfort was that his last words were never something more true.

Even as Peter had miraculously woke up to sunlight streaming into his face the next day, still feeling like absolute crap but very much alive.

Even as he went to go dinner with Ben the night he came back home, Peter now having more than perfect sight and hearing, and a very impressive (and terrifying, to be honest) set of powers that Peter had no idea what to do with.

Even as Ben slid out in front of Peter to block the muggers, the only thought to be protecting his boy.

Even as Peter went home, his new sense of smell making the fresh blood on his hands from trying to stop the bleeding making him gag with every passing second.

There was never something more true that Peter loves - loved, he _loved_ \- his uncle with all of his heart.

Peter learned too quickly that broken collarbones and spider bites and collapsed buildings were much more endurable than he ever thought they could be. He had a new 10 on the pain scale though, and it took a lot more than than physical injury to hit it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okokokok. so I know what you're thinking, _I thought this was supposed to be a hurt/comfort but this chapter is a lot of hurt and no comfort???_ Which, for one, is true (sorry(not sorry)), but secondly, I bring you hope in the form of irondad next chapter. get excited.
> 
> also, thank you for such sweet comments! they mean the world to me and encourage me to write, so thank you! I'm thinking this fic will be updated approximately every 4-6 days. 
> 
> love you guyssss


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! I'm so sorry for how late this update is, life kicked my ass in the form of finals and end of the year responsibilities, so hopefully a longer chapter will make up for that.
> 
> this is the first time writing in the POV of Tony ~~and it scares the absolute shit out of me~~ , so hopefully I did him and his relationship with Peter justice.
> 
> k thanks love you byeeee

“The final paperwork needs to be sent back over to pepper before four, the shipment of bouquets needs to be confirmed with the company supplying them because for some reason 500 shipments is “too much to be believable”, the kid gets out of school at 2:45, so don’t be too late and could you also check in with the wedding planner at some point? I know pepper gave him her blessing, _yada yada yada_ , I _know_ he helped organize the royal wedding, but I still don’t trust anyone who claims that pineapple pizza is an acceptable form of food in the first place-”

“Wait, hold on, lets backtrack a second. What about the kid?”

Tony looked back at Happy, his brisk trailing next to him coming to an abrupt stop, his face dropping quite considerably from is usually stoic manner to a more slack jawed expression. Tony just raised an eyebrow before turning back to continue strolling forward, hiding the slight grin starting to pull at his face. Part of him wishes that Peter didn’t turn down his offer just to see Happy have to deal with the kid everyday (only reason).

“Regardless of what the kid tells you, they cannot actually hold him like a prison and they do have to release them at certain times. His school gets out at 2:45, which is the average time most high schools in New York get out, but some are starting to petition to have later starts which mean release times get pushed back-”

“Yeah yeah, I get the whole concept of high school, Tony. What does that have to do with me?” Happy’s wheels had seemed to be turning again and didn’t seem too, well, happy with what his boss was implying. His legs started to finally work again, sprinting slightly to catch to a now very obviously smirking Tony. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you! We have a new agreement where twice every month he comes up to the compound for the weekend. Just training, tinkering around with the webbing and suit, basic stuff. And, as this is a Friday we agreed upon, he will need a ride up to the compound.” Happy let out an indignant sounding huff, throwing his hands up in dismay, clearly ready to argue about his position in this agreement.

_“He reminds me of an annoyed older brother,” Peter admitted while walking over to the familiar black limousine waiting to drive him back to his Aunt’s apartment. Peter is a talkative person in the first place, but if Tony caught him on an adrenaline crash after a mission it’s like his mouth turned on an overdrive setting. “I know Happy truly cares, more than I think he likes to admit, and I think that’s why he gets so, uh-” Peter took a second to take a breath, and when Tony looked over it seemed like he was smiling underneath his mask, the little shit, “ - so frustrated with me, sometimes.”_

“Why am I this kid’s personal chauffeur once again?” 

Tony turned around and swiftly took off his rose tinted glasses (they’re actually reading glasses, a fact that nobody but Pepper and Rhodey needed to know, because _Jesus_ did that make him sound old as fuck) into his pocket, slapping a hand to Happy’s upper back. “We both know that my young protege has an affinity to stopping trouble, but also tends to draw it closer to him as well - unintentionally and otherwise” he added, still thinking of a very prominent Ferry Incident and a large disaster of a plane crash on Coney island. “I’m just making sure that everyone is safe and secure. Don’t need a squashed teenage spider on the side of the compound. Its bad PR, or so I’m told.” 

When Happy just rolled his eyes and turned away, notably in the direction to the garage, Tony yelled over his shoulder, “It’s only twice a month Happy! And keep rolling your eyes like that, they’re going to get stuck there one day!” 

Happy huffed before turning away, before adding back “It’s just good to know the court order gave you alternating weekends there, Pops!” Seriously, this place is going to turn into a goddamn daycare soon.

Nevertheless, Happy _does_ like his job when all is said and done, so he found himself greeting a moody and withdrawn Peter Parker by three o’clock. While he was pleasantly surprised that he does stop talking for more than five minutes at a time, after glancing back at him for the tenth time and not even being halfway to the compound, did Happy realize he was actually concerned about him.

Happy debated saying anything, shaking his head a bit in frustration before solely giving into his own curiosity. “You okay back there kid?”

“‘m fine.”

Happy risked another glance back at the teen pressed up against the window, one earbud blasting music and eyes locked onto his phone screen. “That doesn’t sound very fine to me”.

There was a beat, and then “I just...I don’t feel so good today. Don’t worry about it.” Amazingly the reassurance did not make Happy any less concerned. There was more silence, and then the sound of the partition slowly rolling up. On any other day Happy would be doing a (very manly) celebratory dance, but for some reason all he felt was rising blood pressure.

Happy let out a sigh, thinking that he better get an extra bonus at the end of the month to compensate for all of the hair dye he’s going to need to cover up _very_ premature greys. Damn teenagers.

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When Tony got the message from Happy that something was up with Peter he quickly checked the suits most recent vitals and Baby Monitor footage. With normal signs from the last 48 hours and nothing alarming in the video tapes (other than an unfortunate overshot which led into a visit to a nearby dumpster) there was nothing out of the ordinary. Well, as ordinary as a vigilante spider kid could get. 

Tony let out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding and fell back into the chair underneath him, running a shaking hand through his hair. He took a deep breath, reminding himself he was fine, Peter was fine, and even if for some reason he wasn’t he would be in the best facility in the entire side of the east coast under his own personal supervision.

Still slightly unconvinced that Peter wasn’t hiding anything, Tony asked FRIDAY to be monitoring his vitals and let him know if anything was out of the ordinary. Just to be safe.

About ten minutes later he could hear the soft ding of the elevator from his lab before the face of Peter Parker emerged. As Tony shouted at him to come in, he quickly checked his profile. Other than dark circles under his eyes, all appendages seems attached and was decidedly not bleeding out from anywhere. Tony ignored the feeling of tension that remained in his upper chest.

“Hey there, Pete.”

“Hey Mr. Stark.” Peter gave a small wave before unceremoniously dropping is backpack by the nearby workbench, eyes glued onto his phone screen. Uncharacteristic, but nothing concerning.

“School good today?”

“Huh?” Peter glanced up from his phone, still processing what was asked of him. “Oh! I mean yeah, yeah it was fine, it was a uh, a regular day. Same old I guess.” His head snapped right back to his screen, completely out of it.

Okay, nothing _too_ concerning, then.

It was just. The kid usually never is quite reserved like this, even on bad days where there was assignments to do and his patrols were rougher than usual and everything was too much. In fact, if anything it opened the kid up even more. That, added to the fact that even though he was in Tony’s lab which he usually gushes over he was barely paying any attention to his surroundings, didn’t sit right with him.

At a loss of what to do with a closed off teenager, Tony resorted to something he actually knew about. “Okay, well unless you want to stand here all night, care to start working on updates on your suit first, or...?” 

At this Peter realized that he had kept his mentor waiting, he quickly responded with a nervous _oh, yeah, of course!_ and fumbled with this bag to get his suit.

After a quick inspection, most of the updates were just technical. He did note that before he makes the next suit to make it either more scent resistant or machine washable. A sweaty teenage boy wearing a skin tight suit for multiple hours everyday did not lead to a very pleasing smell, go figure.

Tony then went into tweaking some of the coding on the suit to implement some new updates while Peter pulled out his web shooters to try to develop a more water-resistant web fluid. Emphasis on started though, because he was jumping at every vibration of his phone to eagerly type back (but waited a few seconds to not seem too eager, Tony noted), or spared multiple glances at a dark screen before the process would start over again

Tony tried minding his business, he really did. Usually he’d just focus on his work and let a comfortable silence would fall between them, both immersed in their own respective projects, but today's usual rhythm was constantly interrupted with a familiar _buzz!_ very thirty seconds or so.

Maybe it was all the near-death experiences, or just plain old age, but more and more as time went on Tony found himself more attuned to others emotions. It wasn’t rare from him anymore, especially after he had found new family in the team and his relation with Pepper deepened, but he thought he had truly understood all the different ways one could care for a person.

And there was the kid, and he finally understood how parents could stress over a human being so much (how they can love a human being so much).

He noticed it between the long hours he shared with him in the lab. Tony quickly found out that he was an excellent partner to be able to collaborate with. The first person beside from Bruce that was able to not only keep up, but offer helpful critiques. He felt a strange tug of pride at that, strangely wishing Bruce was there for him to tell him all the ways that that kid, his kid, excelled (and was going to run down stark industries if he wasn’t careful).

It was in Peter’s innocent and all encompassing laughter Tony would hear when reviewing the video feed on a mission well done, kid sounding exhausted as he ranted to his AI but radiating pure happiness all the same.

Those moments made Tony swear to do two things, even if it could be the end of him: get Peter to see his eighteenth birthday, and to try to be someone he could rely on - the absolute opposite of Howard.

It was one of the scariest and most ridiculous things that could’ve happened to him, mentoring a kid. Yet, here he was. And he didn’t regret one moment he got with Peter. His decisions were a different story, he should have never have brought him to Germany, and would always regret that - but getting to know Peter was one of the best parts of the past year, if he was being honest with himself. Even if said teen could stress him out like no other, which was saying a lot.

Like today for example. Even as the worry melted away into curiosity, it wasn’t until coincidence that he found out who was blowing up Peter’s phone - and attention span.

About 45 minutes into working Tony started to adjust one of the eyes on the suit. Feeling slightly tired of the aloofess of Peter, he asked him to go hand him a screwdriver from across the room. As he went to go get it, Peter left his phone on the table screen facing up. As usual the phone buzzed and when Tony glanced up, instead of a picture of Peter’s best friend (Ted, as Tony like to call him) as he expected, he had a clear view of a pretty girl on Peter’s screen. She had curly, unruly hair around her like a halo, smirking face obviously caught a bit off guard by the picture. 

Tony’s eyes widened in realization, before quickly glancing back down at the suit when he heard Peter’s footsteps coming up behind him. If Tony had rested his chin in his hand to hide a small smile when Peter gave him the drill, then it was purely coincidence. “Hm? Oh, thanks.”

Eyeing the teenager as he sat down and gave a faint grin at his phone screen, Tony waited for the right time, debating whether or not he’d be able to ask FRIDAY to start recording. Clearing his throat, Tony started, “How’s the web fluid coming along?”

Peter barely looked from his his notes, where his phone very inconspicuously lay next to them. “Oh, it’s, its fine.”

“Trying to work on its water solubility?”

“Yep.”

“Add in extra Toluene?”

“Yeah.” Another buzz went off.

Tony sighed. Looks like he had to use his (admittedly, favorite) tactic.

“Is your girlfriend sexting you?”

“Yes- wait, what?” Peter looked up looking like a deer in headlights as he just realized as to what he just confirmed, and to add to his dismay his phone pinged yet again. Tony just raised his eyebrows as if to emphasize his point, adding “Look kid, I don’t care what you’re into, as long as it’s kept solely between you two. That’s considered child pornography, you know.”

Peter’s face matched the color of his suit, sputtering “wait, no, I didn’t mean- we’re not, I mean, I’m not even texting a girl? Not that i was doing that, or with any other gender for that matter, uh, not that that’s a bad thing though!” During his rambling, Peter didn’t realize he had tipped too much methanol into the solution, and before Tony could even get a word in it quickly rose and spilled over the container. 

Peter just closed his eyes and dropped his hand into the palms of his hands, softly muttering shit underneath his breath. Tony almost gave him a hard time for cursing, but figured he embarrassed the kid enough for one day.

“Let’s take a break, yeah?” Peter just nodded, scooting his chair out slightly from his workbench. Tony walked over the refrigerator he kept for times he actually remembered to eat while working, still not quite ready to drop the subject. “So, what's the girl’s name?”

Peter’s eyes looked everywhere except for Tony, hands nervously twisting in his lap. “I, uh, I don’t understand what you mean, Mr. Stark.”

Tony just lifted his eyebrows, glancing at his phone back to Peter. Peter’s shoulders slumped, before grimacing and choosing to stare at his now abandoned half finished web shooters. “Was it that obvious?”

Walking back over towards Peter with chinese leftovers in both hands, he confessed “I didn’t know for sure until you confirmed it, buddy.”

Peer groaned, dropping his head back into the workchair, shaking his head. Tony came up behind him, clasping a hand onto his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, we all have trouble in paradise sometimes.”

This made Peter groan even louder, letting out a muffled ,em>Mr. Stark! between his hands. Tony let a small smile chuckle before pulling up his own chair next to Peter, offering him a box which was gratefully accepted.

After a few bites, Peter hesitantly admitted, “She’s...she’s not my girlfriend. Not really.” The frown stuck on his face wasn’t unlike to one a child would give if someone stole their candy.

“With they way you were glued to your phone you could’ve fooled me” Tony slowly started, taking a bite of chicken. “And this girl’s name is…?”

Peter chose to stare down at his food, pushing around rice with his chopsticks. “Does it really matter all that much?”

“Well, it does to me.”

Peter glanced up, waiting for the signature Tony Stark Smirk that’s the sign of an impending quip, but all he got was a truly genuine look on his face, eyebrows drawn in. Tony leaned back into his chair, clearing his throat trying to clear some of the awkwardness he was facing away. “Especially if she has my best intern this distracted while working on super secret superhero business.”

Peter smiled at his words before his eyebrows quickly drew in. “Aren't I your only intern?”

Tony just lifted an unimpressed eyebrow, waving his hand to almost hit away the statement. “Ah, details kid.”

Peter looked up to the ceiling before nodding his head slightly, as if he was having an argument with himself before giving a sigh of defeat. “Her name is Michelle. Well - MJ, actually. I mean, her birth name is Michelle, obviously, I mean, why would anyone name their kid two initials, that’d be weird - although, there’s nothing wrong with the name MJ, it’s a nice name-”

“Alright, I got the jist.” Tony interrupted with a hand up, “but anyways, this MJ. She’s not your girlfriend?”

“I mean...she’s not, not my girlfriend? I guess?”

Tony just gave him an unimpressed look, trying to not like the amusement show too much on his face. “You guess?”

Peter cringed at himself, realizing how badly he was mumbling before giving him a resounding _yeah,_ eyebrows pulled as tight as they were when he first arrived at the compound.

“Okay, well, have you asked her out yet?”

“Huh?”

“Have you been on a date? Like gone out and gotten food, or whatever teens are doing now that’s considered dating?” Tony added, because seriously, everytime he sees a young couple taking selfies before continuing to compulsively tweet kills him a little more each day.

“Not really?”

“Your confidence in your own answers are very convincing, kid.” 

Peter just gave a long sigh, putting his food on the table next to him and rubbing his face with his hand. “I’ve tried. To tell her that I like her. But we always end up getting interrupted or I run out of things to say, and I don’t even know if she’d say yes on a date, so.” He shrugged his shoulders, seeming to accept defeat.

For some reason, that didn’t sit right with Tony.

“Well, you could start with why you like her. Use that genius brain of yours. By the way, I’m a bit disappointed that your phone isn’t a Starkphone. The betrayal hurts, although I could fix that for you with your AI installed in there in about -” Tony glanced at his expensive looking watch, “- twenty minutes. Make it easier to send her messages.” he added, tilting his head to said cracked device.

Peter immediately started protesting, arguing that the phone he had was fine, but Tony seemed determined and said that it was the most productive thing that they’d do all night, and that was that.

As the room was filled with the sounds of the gentle clicks of a keyboard Tony was using to transfer Peter’s contacts, Tony decided to question him further. 

“This girl: have you known each other for a while, or…?”

Glanced back down at his shoes before earnestly responding “Yeah. Yeah! I mean, we met freshman year and been friends for a while now, and she seems to actually tolerate me so. I think that’s a good sign.” He chuckled a bit at himself before adding on, “I mean, for MJ at least.”

“Why do you like her so much?”

Peter rubbed his neck, a tick Tony recognizes when he’s feeling nervous. “Well…”

Tony sighed. “Look. Maybe you’ll calm down a bit if you practiced first. So! Go ahead. Give it your best shot, kid.

Peter cleared his throat, before cautiously starting, ”Okay, uh…”

“Relax, Parker. Just me.”

“Yeah, right, okay. MJ’s...” Peter stopped to truly think about it, seeming to mull over his words carefully before continuing. “She’s smart. Like, really, insanely smart in literally any single subject you throw at her, but she does nothing to seem, I don’t know, superior than others, I guess? LIke, she never puts anyone down about not understanding something, and if someone does she can immediately shut them down.” 

Peter stopped, carefully looking at his mentor to see if he was bored, or even worse, uncomfortable, but at the small nod of Tony’s head, Peter’s word came tumbling out, eyes lighting up like the lights on a christmas tree.

“She’s just a really chill person and even though she makes fun at Ned and I, deep down she’s just as nerdy and weird as we are. She’s really cool, and naturally one of the most beautiful people I’ve met inside and out, and I never met someone so incredibly real and, and makes me feel the way I do.” Peter finished his sentence a bit breathless with a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks and yeah, he’s completely gone on this girl. 

“And just double checking, this is MJ, right?”

“Yep.” Peter responded, popping the ‘P’ sound at the end before he really thought about the question asked. “Wait, what do you mean ‘double checking’?”

Tony came out from behind the desk, handing him a sleek dark blue Starkphone. “Your AI - Karen, do you call her? - is now on here, all pictures and data are transferred, and I’m guessing anywhere from the next thirty seconds to an hour you will be receiving a phone call.”

Tony almost swore that he saw the his eye twitch slightly. “Mr. Stark?” his voice turned up a whole nother octave, anxiety bleeding through his voice. He glanced at the new phone, with one new message sent from his phone under MJ’s contact. 

_Voice Recording: sent_

Before Peter could kneel over and actually die, right in the middle of the avengers facility, the same picture of MJ illuminated his new, non cracked screen,this time the ringtone loudly going off.

Before Tony was completely out of the door, he wished Peter an upbeat _Good luck!_ the sight Peter’s jaw dropped and eyes completely bugged out following him out of the lab into the lounge. In hindsight, maybe this wasn’t Tony’s finest plan, but he could not handle any more emotions for the weekend. His emotional quota was way overdone in the past hour than he allows for in a month.

Plus...Peter deserved to have something good, something normal happen to him. Okay, so maybe having a billionaire sending your crush a monologue of why he likes her wasn’t too ordinary, but that seems to be as good as it can get.

Any leftover doubts was washed away when Peter came out the lab five minutes later, quite literally bouncing off of the walls, screaming “Oh my god, she said yes Mr. Stark! Holy _shit!”_

Tony just sat on the couch with a cup of coffee, smiling at his young protege. For the rest of the weekend he was sure he’d tease the him about it, but for right now, watching the Peter get to actually be a kid was one of the least worrying and rewarding moments he’s had in a long time.


	4. Growing Pains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses for the how late this update is only other than my own insecurities in my writing. To make up for it though, I already have the next chapter written, so expect another update sometime in the next week! Your comments also literally mean the world to me and helped me finish this chapter so thank you for all your kind words!
> 
> Just a disclaimer that I am no doctor and webmd was been my newfound best friend, so definitely expect some liberties taken in the medical aspect of this chapter. Also, there is a brief mention of signs of an upcoming panic attack. I updated the tags and it's a very small part of the story, but just be careful and take care of yourselves.
> 
> This is loosely checked for grammatical errors and when I have more time I'll go back and edit so I apologize for any other mistakes as well.
> 
> Okay, _now_ go enjoy the chapter.

By now Peter should know that if a day looks promising, or even god forbid normal, it's going to turn out one of two ways: it's going to be one of the best days in his life (see getting to fight with Iron Man and then going back and celebrating with ice cream), or things are going to get exponentially weird and/or worse. 

Somehow, since the bite, the latter usually seemed to win out.

Nevertheless, Peter’s day had initially had looked to be a good one. After a late night of patrolling he'd pulled through with no injuries, just some soreness in his back and legs, which was a feat in and of itself (Aunt May said for someone who had supernatural flexibility and agility he was still the clumsiest person she knew).

Waking up and not feeling absolutely wiped, he grabbed breakfast and managed to make his train. Arriving to class on time, he got a ping on his phone that reminded him that he was supposed to meet with Mr. Stark after school and get personalized training with the man himself.

Sometimes, Peter couldn’t believe where he was today. Even after working twelve hours in a lab next to his mentor, the child inside of him that saw Iron Man, and ultimately Tony Stark, his idol actually cares and spends time with him blew Peter’s mind. Whenever Tony tells him a corny physics joke or they start working on another project, he also couldn’t imagine his life any other way anymore. Things just seemed, really, really good lately. Like he finally had a lock on things.

So of course, things from then on turned to complete shit.

His first period was chemistry. After sitting through the teacher explaining last night's homework to a class where everyone was still half asleep, she announced a lab. When Peter went to go grab a beaker for Ned and him though, he found that the soreness he woke up to turned into full on _pains._ They spread across this entire chest, back and legs, every movement seeming to send him sparks of fire down his body.

He tried to hide it the best he could, but it seemed like every move would just agitate things further. At Ned's slightly suspicious glances, Peter told him that he was just tired after yesterday's patrols. Ned insisted on just finishing up by himself, letting Peter take a break. He made a note to himself as he laid his head on his arm to give Ned like a million presents for his birthday (Okay, maybe like three because he's broke, but if he had Ned come to the tower to meet Mister Stark, he considered that to be pretty good as far as sweet sixteens go).

As the day progressed, it only got worse. Peter wracked his brain for anytime he let his guard down, or got shot with anything weird or alien last night, but nothing came up. He even thought about excusing himself to the bathroom to ask Karen about any moments he wasn't aware about while high on adrenaline, but she would just alert Happy, or even worse Mister Stark himself about the inquiry, which he was seventy five percent sure was nothing.

Another thing he noticed is that was also _super_ hungry. It definitely wasn't abnormal for Peter to be hungry a solid two periods before lunch because of the whole super metabolism thing, but he felt absolutely starving not even into second period despite having actually eaten breakfast that day.

Trying to shake it off and hoping it would get better in time, Peter just focused extra hard on his schoolwork, trying to forget the problem entirely.

By the time lunch rolled around though, everything just seemed more intense. Gritting his teeth and he felt the shape jabs of pain in his legs as walked up to the lunch table, he quickly greeted Ned as he sat his lunch tray down.

“Hey Pet-whoa, did you get taller since the last time I saw you?”

“That was first period, Ned.”

“I know!”

Peter just let out a sigh, sliding onto the seat next to Ned. “Well, unless one of my powers is rapid growth, then no.”

Ned snickered a bit, but sobered when he saw how stiff every little movement was. “Dude, are you seriously okay? What happened last night? Did you get hurt by those muggers you stopped and not take care of your cuts again? Because I know you have a freaky amazing healing factor, _seriously cool_ , but I don’t think putting neosporin on deep wounds is going to cut it, and-”

“I’m _fine,_ Ned.” Peter interrupted, putting his hand over his mouth to quiet him down. It's been three months, and how Ned hasn't completely let the entire school know about his secret identity he may never know.

Since Peter has made it more of a point to be more punctual to Decathlon meetings (and two unofficial official dates later), MJ has actually been sitting with them at lunch. While it was actually really nice to have her in their little group it also made it harder to hide the whole Spider Man thing. Especially when his best friend could be more excited about his double life than Peter was most of the time.

Even with the interruption, Ned looked unimpressed, eyebrows raised as he glanced up and down Peter’s profile. “Yeah sorry. You're totally okay.”

Peter’s eyes searched Ned’s face, searching for any hint of a joking smile. When he didn't find one Peter hesitantly turned back to his bag to fish out his homework that he forgot to do last night, stuffing his face with goldfish crackers.

“It's just that, your entire body has hardly moved an inch from when you first sat down, your breathing is slightly labored, and when you were walking in the hallways earlier you seemed to have a limp on both legs, a new feat even for you. Not to mention you’re eating like you've never seen food before. But I’m sure you’re fine.” Ned delivered his speech without glancing up once from his phone, his voice in his _I love you but sometimes you can be a bit of a dumbass tone_ he has reserved only for Peter.

Peter let out a nervous laugh, trying to loosen up but letting out a wheeze instead from moving his chest too much. Ned just glanced up at Peter, giving him an exasperated look before handing him a bottle of ibuprofen. 

“Just promise me you'll tell Mister Stark if it doesn't get better when you go to see him later and won't soldier through the pain.”

“Thanks man.” Peter sighed, and then, “I promi-”

“-And I mean actually, explicitly tell him, not mumble something incoherent and then tell him you were just talking to yourself or something.”

Peter just groaned, rolling his eyes but reluctantly agreeing. “Fine. You're lucky I love you.”

Ned just grinned back, conceding, “Hell yeah you do.”

“When you two are done flirting, could you help me with the Spanish homework?”

Both boys heads whipped up to see MJ, sitting two seats in front of them. When they said nothing but just gaped, she sighed, pulling out a worksheet from her bag. Ned just mouthed at him I mean it! behind MJ's back, and when neither of them were looking she slyly put an apple Peter onto Peter’s lunch tray.

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Unfortunately by the time Peters last period rolled around his, uh, _condition_ definitely did not improve. Peter’s chest ache so much it hurt to breathe, and every step he took seemed to send a million needles up his shins and behind his knees. 

Peter also knew, though, that he would be getting to spar with Mister Stark today, and that was not an opportunity he wanted to pass just because he has a little joint pain. _You're sixteen, not sixty six, grandpa._

Peter let out a soft moan and let his head rest on the cool tile of the bathroom wall, for once in his life dreading to go to the compound. All he wanted to do was down the other half of Ned’s bottle of ibuprofen and sleep for a solid day. Maybe two.

Regardless, the last bell of the day soon rang through his pounding head and found himself looking at the back of one Happy Hogan’s headrest. He made small talk with Happy, trying to keep his voice upbeat and energetic before mentioning his intense workload and making an out for himself by pulling out his homework, headphones shoved in his ears.

By the time Peter got to the compound the pins and needles were feeling more like knives and daggers slowly digging all over his body. Gritting his teeth, he walked up the steps trying to keep steady breaths, a voice suspiciously sounding like Flash’s teasing him that he looked like a woman going into labor ringing in his head.

When he entered he saw Tony was already in the lounge flipping through a tablet, completely absorbed in whatever he was reading. Despite wearing contacts (“You tell no one, Parker!”), he was squinting hard at the material with his whole body tensed up.

It was in these moments, where he'd stumble in to see Mister Stark unguarded and without his usual front for the cameras did he see just an inch of what the man had to deal with day to day. He would always try to hide any issues he was dealing with, which Peter could understand, he really did, but made him hope that every once and again he could let go and reach out. Just a tiny bit.

Glancing up at the sound of nearing footsteps Tony visibly relaxed upon seeing Peter and gave him a welcoming smile, all while he discreetly but quickly covered the tablet. “Hey kid, what’s shaking? You ready to get your spandexed butt kicked today?”

Peter let out a soft laugh, then winced when he felt the pressure tighten around his chest. He quickly cleared his throat, trying to cover it up as a scoff. “Yeah, you wish.”

“Two pizzas that I can pin you down in twenty minutes.”

Peter let out a genuine smile, despite knowing he was absolutely screwed. “Bet.”

Peter walked over to the couches, easing himself slowly into the seat. If Mister Stark noticed that something was off, he chose not to say anything. Either way, Peter was grateful.

“Jesus, you look taller since the last time I saw you. And that was only what, one week ago?”

“Yeah. And uh, I don't know, maybe I am. You're not the first person to say that today.”

“Of course not. I am a genius after all.” 

“I don't think it takes a genius to see someone got taller, Mister Stark.”

“No, but it does to build a suit that measures your vitals, and also adjusts to your changing height. And for the love of god, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Tony?”

“As many times as Pepper tells you to call whatever important business man wants to talk to you back.”

“Do you know how many people still call to try to get me to sell their products?”

“Do you know how many people still call to try to get me to buy their products?”

“Touché, kid.”

He let out a snort as Tony leaned back into his seat, a genuine smile lighting up on his face.  
Peter tried leaning back into his seat as well to appear less stiff, but the movement jostled his chest and back, and an involuntary hiss escaped him. This time, Tony definitely took notice.

“Seriously, you okay Pete? You aren’t looking so hot.”

Peter looked up, face slightly pale and sweaty. “Oh I’m fine Mister Stark, I just took a few hits last night on patrol and I'm still a little sore.” At Tonys’ increased look of concern, he tried to backtrack quickly. “It was nothing, really! I just made a stupid mistake, let some punches in that I shouldn't have. I’ll be fine, seriously. I’ve got two pepperoni and sausage pizzas to win, anyways,” he tried to joke, but it fell flat on Tony’s concerned face.

“If you're sure…”

“Absolutely!” Peter responded a bit too quickly, and winced at himself. Tony reluctantly agreed, standing up and offering a hand to Peter which was gladly accepted.

“Well then, get suited up bug boy.” Before Peter could even brace himself , Tony slightly slapped a hand to his upper back and Peter knees buckled, barely saving himself from completely face planting into the very expensive, very _hard_ hardwood floors. 

“Whoa, take it easy. You alright?” Tony was full on concerned now, in what Ned loved to call ‘Dad Mode’. Peter groaned, knowing he was not going to get out of this anytime soon.

“I'm fi-”

“Nope. Let's try that again one more time.”

Peter let out a defeated sigh. “I might be in a slight amount of pain?”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Tony groaned, helping the boy right himself on his feet all while mumbling something about how he _hates being right sometimes_ under his breath.

“So, do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“I, I really don’t know.” At Tony’s unimpressed stare, Peter hastily added “No, honestly! When I woke up this morning, I really did feel fine,” he winced as he straightened his back fully, adding, “but as the day continued I’ve had really bad pains on my chest, torso and legs.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., give me his stats.”

“Mr. Parker is experiencing an increase of testosterone that is increasing his height, a phenomenon common in adolescents around his gender and age.”

“A growth spurt?”

“It has seems that Mr. Parker’s natural response is triggering his healing factor, and instead of a gradual growth it is sporadic and dramatic in change, possibly growing multiple inches in less than a span of multiple days.”

“Just how much taller will he get in the next 24 hours?”

“According to my calculations Mr. Parker will grow about three inches within the next 24 to 36 hours.”

Tony’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Peter nursed a similar reaction, cheeks going as red as the Iron Man armor.

Tony was the first one to recovered first, nervously consoling him. “Well kid, it looks like you finally have a chance to be taller than me overnight.” He paused, and then added, “Literally.”

Peter looked like he wasn’t entirely there, blank stare and just kind of standing there, huffing out a best of a laugh as he could. “Aha. That is. That's Funny. And true. Funny and true.”

“Yeah.” Tony dragged out the syllable, quick to notice the rapid rise and fall of Peter’s chest despite the wheeze that accompanied with it. He knew what an oncoming panic attack looked like (especially felt like), and knew that it would only make what he could imagine what as already intense physical pain worsen. “Hey, you’re freaking out on me, are you?”

Peter just leaned heavily back onto Tony’s supporting arm, a bit frantically responding “I don’t think I am. I mean, I’m just trying to comprehend the whole, ‘my messed up DNA is going to make me go from ‘5’5 to 5’8’ in less than a day’ thing, and how much that sucks, and also I have another two possible days of this. But, uh, other than that I'm, I'm peachy.”

Tony warily eyed the boy, seeing him try to tamper down panic on his face. “Uh huh. Well, let's at least get you off of your crazy fast growing legs then, yeah?”

He took a small nod from Peter as the best confirmation he was going to get before gently leading him back down to the couches, Tony trying to ease him down as easily as possible without giving him too much pain. All along the way he muttered soft motivations, trying to tamp down his own feelings of shock. God, what kind of spider could bite a kid into this much insanity? 

“Hey bud, I’m going to go grab something for you and then I’ll be right back, okay?”

“O-okay.” Tony gave Peter a small smile before all but running into his labs.

Jogging over to his lab Tony swiftly entered the doors, stopping himself when he was just at the workstation that had sat untouched for almost two years now. Taking a deep breath, Tony put aside any hesitation as he thought of the look of pain on Peter’s face. He would always pull priority, no matter what.

“F.R.I.? Unlock code number twenty six, bypass 6J13.”

“You got it boss.”

Soon, the workspace lit up, equations left just as... _he_ left it.

Quickly pushing away any emotions, Tony quickly started scanning through files, going back through timestamps. If he was true to what he said he was working on...

“Oh, thank _fuck._ ”

Pulling up the extended formula, he mixed together the solution as fast and precise as he could before leaving it to set for an hour. After then making a stop at his kitchen, Tony soon returned to find Peter curled up in the fetal position in the same spot he left him in.

He felt...something, for the kid. He would never admit out loud, hell, Tony couldn’t even get himself to think it, but deep down he knew it was a fondness and pride for the teen. If this what having kids is like, he mused to himself, maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Said teens voice shook him from his thoughts. “Mister Stark?”

“Yeah, Pete?”

“You really don’t have to do anything for me. I know you’re busy, and I really don’t want to burden you, so-”

“Yeah, I’m just going to stop that train of thinking because first, you are never a burden to me. I will always have time when you need my help. Do I make myself clear?”

After a small nod, Tony continued on.”What we are going to do is feed you an alarming amount of food, give a call to your, quite honestly, hot and terrifying Aunt, and give you a some special pain meds that will even knock mutant spider teens until your body figures itself out. Sound good?”

For the first time since first period this morning, some of the pain felt a little more bearable replying with an earnest grin. “Sounds great, Mister Stark.”

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Thai leftovers, a whole box of cookies, an apple (because, health), and three whole pizzas later ( _“Mister Stark, you said only if I won, and we didn’t even spar! “Yeah, well that was before I knew you decided to basically have your own version of hulking out kid_ ).

Standing up, Tony checked on the capsules, and upon seeing that they were ready walked back over to Peter before unceremoniously dropping a can of sprite and two tablets into Peter’s hand.

Peter raised his eyebrows at the two small pills. “Did you create this?”

Tony sat back next to Peter, trying to keep his voice light and casual. “Banner and I did. We, uh, were almost finished before hitting a snag, and then he claimed that he had resolved the issue. I just never looked over the remaining work, after…” Tony stared ahead, unable to look at Peter’s concerned and sympathetic look in his eyes. “After everything.’

After a beat of a slightly awkward silence, Peter just responded with a bright smile and lighthearted _cool!_ , before downing the medicine. Something in Tony's chest lightened just a bit, and he put a light hand on Peter's shoulder. When he gave him a soft squeeze, Peter looked up at him. Tony didn't exactly smile, but the corners of his mouth had turned up slightly, eyes not misty but not quite dry, either.

Peter just gave him a warm smile, say simply "You're welcome."

They sat in companionable silence, watching old F.R.I.E.N.D.S reruns on the large TV splayed out in the lounge. Despite the surrounding circumstances, they made the best out of their night, and Tony couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy most of it (the parts that he didn’t like was to see Peter in that much pain. That he could have done without).

“Ughhhhhhh.”

“As the kids say now, _same._ ” Tony joked back, pitching his voice higher and drawing out the last syllable as Peter did. Peter let out an honest to god giggle, and Tony swore it was one of the best things he's ever heard in his life.

Another beat passed, and a quieter, more muffled voice came this time.

“Mister Stark? I don't feel so good.”

“How so?” Tony held his breath, hoping that it wasn’t a ‘I'm about to puke’ not feel so good, or ‘have a panic attack because of my weird body’ kind of thing. He scanned the kid, knowing that regardless of what the answer was, or how unprepared Tony was to take care of a teenager, he'd do his best.

(He’d always do only his best for Peter.)

To his relief though, all Peter was able to mutter, “‘M sleepy.”

"I bet. Go ahead, hit the hay. I'll be here." Peter just looked at him one last time before seeing his eyes flutter closed.

Tony let a small smile grace his face before looking at his curled up form on the couch. As nice and comfortable as the couched may be, it didn’t offer a lot of support (Rest in peace to Tony’s back), and for someone who is hurting all over, isn’t the best place for him to sleep for a long period of time.

Careful to not disturb Peter he gently picked him up in his arms and made his way over into Peter’s bedroom. It was set up even before he offered him a spot on the team, and even after the rejection he could never see a reason to take it down. Beside, it wasn’t like the invitation was always closed.

After laying him on top of the mattress and pulling the comforters over him, he owlishly blinked up at Tony, obviously still out of it.

“Where ‘m I?”

“Narnia.”

Peter let out a dopey smile, eyes lighting up and whispering, “That is _so_ cool.”

Tony just agreed “The coolest”, before debating on whether or not to have F.R.I.D.A.Y. to record some of his. Definitely not for blackmail of any kind, of course.

“Get some rest, kid.” Before Tony could turn completely away, Peter grabbed his hand, miserably uttering, “‘Mister Stark? M sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, Pete. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Tony gently pushed back some of Peter’s curls out of his face before turning away, feeling more protective of the boy more than ever. As Tony was halfway out the door a soft whisper stopped him in his tracks.

“Love you.”

Tony turned around trying to see if he just imagined it. The kid was completely out of it, body completely limp into the soft cushions and he realized with a pang that it was the most relaxed he’s ever seen Peter. Usually bouncing off the walls with energy, or a constant thrum of anxiousness in his sleep he really looked his age. But he saw that his eyes were open, squinting at Tony with a loopy smile on his face before closing his eyes, taking a deep sigh before melting back into the mattress.

Tony knew that days like these wouldn’t last. Eventually, a new terror would come raging back into his life, and he would need to call for backup. He'dd be lying if he didn’t say that Peter wasn’t an asset, on and off the battlefield. He just hated having to send him out into a war he couldn’t protect him from.

But today was just some growing pains, and as long as they had each other Tony could work with that.

As he closed the door to Peter's room and walked back down into the empty lounge, the only sound of a cheesy 90's laugh track playing softly in the background, he realized he never said it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if the next chapter is the fifth chapter, and this is all based on THAT scene, then that means...
> 
> just brace yourselves. okay?
> 
> (Iloveyoualldon'tkillmeokaybye).


	5. Chapter 5

When Tony was first designing the nanotech armour, he surmised that he needed to install a secondary camera. One that not provided a different angle of events that would help when reviewing either for tactics or details missed within a fight, but would sit where his old arc reactor sat. Since the glass protecting it would need to be almost impenetrable, he also wanted the reactor to be just as safe, especially after certain...events, occured. 

He never thought he’d be so grateful and so wrecked from that decision.

_Tony nearly triggered his repulsors, braining himself at the top of the ship by accident when the cloak came up behind him. “Wow. You are a seriously loyal piece of hardware.” He let out a breath, examining the floating cloth._

_What he didn’t expect was to hear another voice beside him, turning his veins ice cold. ”Speaking of loyalty…”_

_Of course, the kid didn’t go home. God, needed to install little jets in his suit as well to personally steer his ass directly back to his apartment complex. The kid could not let go - literally._

_“I was gonna go home! And it was such a long way down…”_

At one point Tony didn’t even realize that he was probably shtting his pants even more than a normal person would have on the side of the ship. Normal people were not almost killed by their homecoming date’s Dad on the top of an airplane.

He noticed how badly his tightly closed fists were trembling, the slight waver in his stance. Shame he didn’t notice then. God forbid he notice when the kid actually needed him.

He felt a small, painful tug in his upper left chest. Tony ignored it.

_“...so if anything, it’s kinda your fault that I’m here.”_

He closed his eyes.

Tony’s in Peter’s room again, recruiting him to help fight in Germany. He’s barely fifteen, had barely made a name for himself. For Spider Man.

In a blink he’s at the airport, watching him get swatted away, up, up, up in the air like a bug being swatted away. There is no movement once he hits the ground.

_“I-I’ve got, homework!”_

Another blink. His phone is blowing up, TV’s all over New York State covering breaking news of a Stark plane crash landing on Coney island, all valuables gift wrapped nicely with webs and a the offending criminal to top it off. 

There were reports of Spider Man on top of the plane. Tony was the only one to notice scorchingly red blood mixed in the raging fire.

A loud _crash!_ followed by the crushing sound of metal and screams snap his stare back to the screen, before hearing a familiar _Yes!_

Tony realized it was one of the last times Peter sounded happy that day.

_“Oh we’re using our made-up names.” Peter approached Strange with an outstretched hand and genuine look on his face. “I’m Spider Man, then.”_

Tony could see the video shake a bit, hear the muffled snort he was hiding in the background, regardless of the insanity around them, reminding him of why he loved the kid so damn much.

He should’ve sent them back home, another planet, galaxy, somewhere, anywhere else then and there.

_“If it comes to saving you, or the kid, or the time stone…”_

Tony’s ears rang, eyes digging into Strange’s pixelated face. He did choose.

God, why couldn’t he just let him go?

_“Let him go, or I swear to you, I'm gonna french fry this little freak.”_

He remembered feeling the rush of adrenaline, his heart stopping as his lungs collapsed, and maybe this is how Cap felt, why he always hated being called a popsicle. Fear is paralyzing. 

It makes you powerless.

 _“Tall guy, not that good looking…” Peter jerked away from Quill,_ Tony noticed. Somewhere, if he had the energy to feel at all, there would be amusement. Both were named Peter. They bonded over that in the small amount of time they had before... _He_ made his entrance. 

Somewhere, he could hear someone yelling. Weird, he thought. No one ever yelled for him. Not anymore.

He kept watching. 

_“How many did we win?”_

Tony winced, knowing the answer too well by now. If the moment wasn’t already imprinted in his head, the amount of times he’s watched this made sure he’d never forget.

Someone in the back of his head told him to stop it. That he doesn’t deserve this. That he was punishing himself for nothing he did wrong. If he listened hard enough, maybe it would sound like Peter. 

He focused his hearing on Strange’s dreaded answer instead.

_“One.”_

If this was somehow winning, Tony wishes that he lost a long time ago. Back when he was in a cave, with a motor strapped to his heart and his head lost in the cold darkness of unforgiving waters.

_“Magic!” Peter floated seamlessly through each portal, and when Tony had a chance to look up, he remembered feeling proud. He nailed that rat bastard right where it hurts._

_“More Magic! Magic with a kick!”_

The voice calling for Tony became more insistent, and louder with each time it was uttered. He distantly wondered who would be calling him by his first name. He never did that.

 _“Magic with a-” the Purple Eggplant, as Tony dubbed him, grabbed Peter in a choke hold, pinning him down by his throat_. He felt like the wind was simultaneously knocked out of him at the same time, unable to do anything but to feel, but even that was as fleeting as the wind as well.

 _“We almost got this off!”_ They pulled and pulled. In the end, Peter was only an inch away. 

Well, one and point two seven five inches away. He had F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirm.

He thought it strange that someone was frantically calling for him in the footage. He didn’t remember Peter even being able to talk because of exertion at this point. Neither could he though. Tony guessed it didn’t matter anymore.

Not much had mattered anymore.

_“Spare his life, and I will give you the stone.”_

Back in the depths of his mind Tony registered that he’d probably make a joke about this now, saying he didn’t really have one anymore.

He was mostly just tired now.

There was pounding along with the yells. He just turned up the static ridden audio louder.

_“There was no other way.” He could barely make out a resigned look on the sorcerers face before letting himself quickly drift with the wind._

He now knows how many were disappearing at this time. The implications of what this meant. He hopes that wherever they are, Ned and Peter were able to find each other.

A lock rattles. Peter’s voice echoes. His heart stops.

_“Mister Stark?”_

_“I don’t feel so good…”_

_“I don’t, I don’t know what’s happening…” He falls into his arms. Feels the horrible realization sink into his gut, could feel his elbow start to become nothing but empty matter and ash._

He asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. why and if it took so much time for him to...to go, or if he was just imagining it. She said he did take longer. She said his healing factor was working to keep him there longer.

She didn’t mention that he was in pain because of it. His enhanced sense, _‘spidey sense’_ , as he loved to call it, made him realize what was going to happen before it did. How agonizing his last moments were.

He knew though.

The voice was screaming Tony’s name. Making empty threats. His eyes lock onto the screen.

Peter wouldn’t call him Tony anyways.

_“I don't wanna go. I don't wanna go.”_

_‘Mister Stark, please…”_

_‘Please. I don't wanna go.’_

_‘I don't wanna go.’_

_Shaking. Screams. One last breath._

_“I’m sorry.”_

Tony couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. The only thing he could even comprehend is the fact that he stole his line. That he was comforting him. How goddamn pathetic.

A door behind him opened with a bang! Light flooded the room, making his vision dance for a few seconds. Tony enjoyed the lightheadedness what he could while it lasted.

When everything became a little less fuzzy and things started making more sense he saw one very angry, and exhausted Pepper in the doorway.

He turned to look back at the copper colored landscape sprinkled with ash on the dingy computer screen Tony made when he was only twelve. If he didn’t know any better it could pass as one’s home screen picture, taken on mars or some other far away planet. It almost looked picturesque, even peaceful.

All it made Tony want to do was throw up.

Behind him, he could here sharp and angry footsteps of his fiance. _“We-,”_ she started, a bit breathless, “have been looking for you _everywhere._ For the last six hours, Tony. That is not okay!”

_Pleasecomebacktouspleasecomebacktouspleasecomebacktome-_

“I mean, seriously?! The janitors closet? You cannot keep- ”, Pepper’s voice faded out when she looked on the old computer screen, seeing nothing but pixelated dust on rough rock.

She knew what happened. Was there to quite literally catch Tony when he all but fell into her arms, not even having to strength to grasp onto her. She never wanted to watch the video, though. They both already had enough nightmares as it is. 

Besides, she had a soft spot for Peter as well. She couldn’t handle this one.

“I thought Bruce deleted the footage.” Pepper frown deepened, speaking out loud but sounding like she was talking mostly at herself. She didn’t sound surprised. Just sad.

Her voice softened behind him, fists clenched at her sides. “You can’t keep locking yourself up here and watching this all night. It’s not healthy. He...he wouldn’t want this.”

Tony's face remained impassive, body gone completely rigid except for the tight and shallow breaths on his chest.

It reminded him he was alive. Tony hated it.

Familiar tears trickled down Tony’s cheek. He made no move to wipe them, letting the taste of salt hit his lips. Blank eyes memorizing the face of the boy who he needed to protect above all, and failed completely.

At the sight of Tony crying, Pepper’s rigid body went lax, losing the fight to be angry. 

“Oh, Tony…”

She crossed the slight distance and pulled Tony in towards her waist. Instinctively he latched on, wrapping his arms around her and digging the side of his face into her soft sweatshirt, trembling hands barely able to keep any sort of grip.

God, he looked so young. He was so damn _young._

He asked Steve how the hell they move on. He said he wasn't sure they could.

Don’t think about how he was supposed to be with with his friends at the MoMA. 

Don’t think about how Mark 17 was supposed to be for his seventeenth birthday, a day he’ll never get to see.

Don’t think about how he said he used to dream about space as a kid because of star wars, how much he wanted to go, and his only memories (his last memories) were one of fear and dread.

Don’t think,

Don’t think,

Don't-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops my finger slipped
> 
>  
> 
> I figured since there have been so many great fics that have explored this scene, I thought it would be more interesting to see Tony sit back and watch it and react. Honestly, a lot of his reactions were probably projections of what I was feeling during/after IW. I actually wrote a whole other concept for this chapter before this idea hit me. If you guys would like to suffer more and read that as a one shot, let me know!
> 
> kay don't kill me pls bye

**Author's Note:**

> I fully and completely believe that Peters Star Wars obsession started when he was first living with Ben and May and it was one of the coolest things he ever saw and connected to his Uncle with, and no one can tell me otherwise.
> 
> Please leave comments! They motivate me to write, and I also have no idea if my characterization is remotely accurate so I'd love to here feedback.
> 
> thanks guys:)


End file.
